


Strung Out, Wrung Out

by sassbandit



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky is cranky about it, Established Relationship, M/M, Nipple Play, Permaboner, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prostate Milking, Sex Pollen, Steve is a reckless idiot, The slightest touch of dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-16 07:02:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14806607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassbandit/pseuds/sassbandit
Summary: Steve went running into an evil science lab without backup and now he's been sex pollened. Bucky has to babysit him and he's cranky about it. That's it, that's the fic.





	Strung Out, Wrung Out

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [lucifuge5](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucifuge5/pseuds/Lucifuge5) for the prompt and beta, and [anoneknewmoose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anoneknewmoose/pseuds/anoneknewmoose) because YOU KNOW WHY.

JARVIS's warning came only a minute before the elevator doors opened, revealing Steve slumped between Natasha and Sam, who were holding him only approximately upright.

"He's fine," Sam said quickly, before Bucky could freak out.

"M'fine," Steve concurred, lifting his head up and hitting Bucky with a sloppy grin. "So fine." His head rolled to one side and he giggled.

"What did you _do_ to him?" Bucky growled, giving Sam his best death glare, then turning to Natasha to give her a dose too.

"He got hit with some kind of aerosolized bio-agent," Natasha explained. "Medical's pretty sure it hasn't done him any damage, but his serum's not processing it like it ought to, so he needs observation."

"Not it," Sam said firmly and unlooped Steve's arm from around his shoulder, passing Steve over to Bucky. Steve wobbled for a moment then came to rest draped over Bucky's shoulder instead.

Natasha handed Bucky a sheet of instructions and he skimmed them quickly. "This is... concussion protocol?"

She shrugged. "They don't have a protocol for whatever this is. Just keep an eye on him, make sure he's well hydrated and call medical if he passes out."

"Or barfs." Bucky glared at Sam, but Sam wasn't having any of it. "He'll be fine. Maybe this'll teach him not to go running into labs without backup, anyway."

"Steve."

"Mmmmbuck?" Steve rubbed his cheek against Bucky's shoulder, as though his cotton hoodie over hard metal was a pile of kittens.

Bucky gritted his teeth. "Never mind." Bucky had a feeling that shouting at Steve in this state would be deeply unsatisfying. "Get out," he said to Natasha and Sam. He was mad at them, too, for letting Steve run into a lab without backup. Not that they could have stopped him any more than Bucky could, but that didn't stop him being worried and angry.

Natasha just smirked and blew him a kiss. "Have fun babysitting," she said, and dragged Sam back into the elevator before he could crack up laughing.

When they were gone, Bucky propped Steve against the wall and ran his hands over him, checking for injuries. He was wearing medical scrubs – his uniform was probably still being decontaminated, Bucky realized – so it only took a few moments for Bucky to reassure himself that Steve had suffered nothing worse than a few bruises. And whatever it was that was making him squirm and laugh as Bucky checked him over.

"Jesus," Bucky grumbled. "Can you make it to the sofa?"

"Suuuure," Steve said, and put both arms around Bucky's neck. Giving in to the inevitable, Bucky hoisted him up into a bridal carry, carried him across the room, and dropped him unceremoniously onto the cushions. 

Bucky turned around and walked to the kitchen, filled a glass of water, walked back, handed it to Steve, and stood over him, arms crossed, while Steve drank it. When Steve was done, he waved the glass in Bucky's general direction. Bucky took it from him before he could drop it and break it.

"Thanks Buck. You take good care of me," Steve said with a sappy look on his face.

"I'm mad at you," Bucky said.

"Oh." Steve frowned. "''cause I got intost... intoxicated."

"Because you didn't – what are you doing?"

"Takin' off my shirt. 'S hot." It wasn't hot. The apartment was cool, if anything. Bucky was wearing his hoodie, which to be fair he always did no matter what, but at the moment it was actually the right temperature for it. Bucky frowned and sat down on the edge of the sofa, pressing his hand against Steve's forehead. Steve didn't feel any warmer than his usual slightly toasty temperature, though it was hard to tell, especially with Steve butting his head against Bucky's hand like a cat.

"Hey," Steve said, managing to brush his lips across Bucky's wrist, then putting his tongue out to taste it. "Love you."

"Love you too, punk. Still mad at you." Bucky managed to get his hand away from Steve's slobbering and picked up the shirt he'd dropped on the floor. "I'm gonna get you some more water, you're gonna pick something to watch on TV, and if you could stop trying to distract me from the fact that you went into a fucking bioscience lab without backup and got _poisoned_ that'd be great. Because we are not done with that topic yet."

Steve attempted a pout, and Bucky went to get more water so he didn't have to look at it.

When he came back, a jug in one hand and a glass in the other, Steve was sprawled back in the cushions with his eyes half-closed, touching his face with his fingertips, pulling his cheeks into rubbery shapes and sticking his fingers in his mouth.

"God Almighty," Bucky muttered under his breath, and queued up some cartoons for Steve to watch. He'd been in the middle of watching a Ken Burns documentary but there was no point putting that on with him in this state.

Steve perked up at the sound of the TV and rolled over to look at it, propping himself on one elbow. Bucky pulled up a chair and sat down, his forearms set square on the arms of the chair, to watch Steve. The stupid punk was always getting himself in trouble when Bucky wasn't there to look out for him. If he'd told him once he'd told him a thousand times – well, they'd been having this argument since sometime in the early '30s. 

The cartoons at least made Steve chill out a little and settle more comfortably into his pile of cushions. He laughed quietly at the cartoons and started languidly stroking his own bare chest. Which was just fine, until he brushed across his own nipple, started in surprise, then started stroking _that_. 

Bucky wasn't going to say anything. If he dignified it with a comment, Steve's drugged incoherence would just lead them in circles. What would he say, anyway? "Hey buddy, stop rubbing your nipples in the living room?" He'd feel like a hypocrite, considering all the times they'd fucked on that same sofa.

Stoic silence seemed like the best option. Bucky set his jaw and kept watching Steve to make sure he didn't pass out or puke, _definitely_ for that reason and not any other. Steve smiled happily and stared at the TV while doing his best to make Bucky's life hell by running his fingers in little circles around his areola.

"Have another glass of water," Bucky said eventually, to distract him. It was a solid plan, except that after Steve sat up to drink it, he lay down again on his back and started playing with _both_ tits.

He also wasn't watching the cartoons any more.

"Bucky," he said, drawing it out like it felt good on his tongue. "Buuuucky."

"Steve."

"This is nice." A sunny smile, then he bit his lip and pressed his thumb against one nipple.

The thing about Steve's nipples was that they were shy. They were flat and pale and almost invisible and the serum hadn't done a damn thing to change that. But the way Steve was rubbing them now, they were starting to turn a delicate rosy pink, and what's more they were perking up, tight little nubs of flesh standing out from his muscled chest.

That wasn't all. Now he was lying on his back, Bucky could see that Steve's cock was tenting the loose scrub pants he was wearing, leaving a damp mark at the tip. He hadn't been like this when Nat and Sam brought him in, or when Bucky checked him over for injuries.

Bucky pulled his phone from his pocket and texted Natasha, without preamble, "What the fuck was it?"

Nat's response came back quickly. "Lab's still analyzing it. Something custom. Might be targeted to his metabolism. Is he worse?"

At that moment, Steve let out a breathy moan and pushed his hips up, rutting against thin air. Bucky grimaced and texted back, "It's fine. I'll deal with it."

"Call medical," Natasha sent back.

"It's fine," Bucky texted again, and added a thumbs up.

"Liar. I'm calling them."

"No!" Bucky texted, and then, feeling that might not be all that convincing, gritted his teeth and added, "Looks like it has aphrodisiac properties."

It took a while for Natasha to reply, because she was probably laughing too much at Bucky's situation to type on her phone screen. Eventually she sent through, "So long as he's not puking or passing out. Have fun!" followed by a series of lewd emoji that Bucky didn't even bother to try to translate.

Thanks for fucking nothing, Bucky thought.

Meanwhile, Steve had got the bright idea of licking his fingers, so his nipples were glistening with spit, and he was arching up into his own touch. Maybe Bucky should just try to ignore it. He turned to watch the TV, but he couldn't stop himself from flicking his gaze back to Steve from time to time, just to make sure he was okay. 

He was more than okay. Bucky hadn't seen Steve this okay since... well, he wasn't going to rank and analyze every time, but this was definitely up there. He was mildly offended by that, somehow. Just as he was starting to think maybe he was jealous, Steve's stupid little moans and gasps turned specific. 

"Bucky," he said, and Bucky's head snapped around. "Bucky. Bucky." He was just repeating it over and over, something like wonder in his voice.

"What?" Bucky said.

"Feels so good. Can you feel it, Buck?"

Bucky shook his head. "No, it's just you." 

"You should feel it," Steve said.

Bucky shuddered. He'd rather stay in control when it came to that sort of thing, thanks very much. Which is why, among many other _extremely_ good reasons, he didn't go prancing unsupervised into bioengineering labs. "Looks like you're doing a pretty good job of feeling yourself already, buddy," he said.

"Oh." Steve sounded disappointed. He frowned like a little kid. "We could share?"

"For fuck's sake," said Bucky, and gave in. Because really, what was the point? "All right," he said, getting out of his chair, "but just to be clear, I get to tease you about this afterwards. And you're still not off the hook for going in without backup."

"Bucky," said Steve.

"Yeah, yeah."

They'd picked a sofa big enough for the two of them and he knew from experience that the upholstery was pretty damn stain resistant. He shrugged, stripped down to his shorts, and climbed on top of Steve, pushing one leg between Steve's and lying over him so they were skin to skin, Steve's ramrod cock prodding Bucky right in the crease of his hip.

"Oh," Steve said, and Bucky kissed him. There was a faint metallic flavor in his mouth, and Bucky hoped like hell there wasn't enough of the drug there to cross over.

"So that feels nice, huh?" Bucky said, looking down at Steve still playing with his own nipples. He let his hand meet Steve's on his chest, then pushed Steve's fingers aside to rub his own against the swollen flesh. Steve gasped and shuddered under his touch. "I'll take that as a yes. More?"

"Mmm," Steve said, nodding fervently. Okay then. It wasn't often that Bucky got to really play with Steve's tits, just settle in there and spend as much time as he wanted, but it looked like today was going to be that day. He dropped his mouth to Steve's right tit and cupped the left in the palm of his flesh hand, rolling and squeezing the nipple between thumb and forefinger.

Result: one (1) Rogers, Steven G., moaning fit to beat the band and humping Bucky's leg. 

He took his time, chewing on Steve's nipple for a bit then pulling back to inspect his handiwork. The right one was redder now, standing out even against the flush spreading down Steve's chest. Bucky traced feather-light across its surface with his metal forefinger, knowing that it would be cold, and grinned in satisfaction at the way Steve whined and squirmed.

He hadn't thought it would take too long for Steve to get off, considering the state he was in, but he didn't seem to be in any sort of hurry. Steve was rutting lazily against Bucky's hip and Bucky could even feel the wet patch of his pre-come through two layers of cloth, but he wasn't speeding up or getting any more intense about it. So Bucky just kept fooling around, sucking on Steve's tits, flicking his tongue against them, rubbing them with either hand, digging in a little with fingernails or metal fingertips. For a while he just settled in to cupping Steve's pecs in his palms, squeezing them up and together as he ran his tongue over every inch of them, slowly circling back towards Steve's nipples. The incoherent noises Steve made were 100% worth it, as was the way he kept grabbing at Bucky's arms then letting go to flop bonelessly back into the cushions.

Bucky was so focused on Steve's tits that he barely noticed his own hardening cock until one of Steve's squirming movements brought their cocks into alignment. Suddenly Bucky's length was pressed right alongside Steve's, and every roll of Steve's hips meant the two of them stroked perfectly together. Clearly the correct thing to do, in this circumstance, was to attack Steve's nipples with even greater vigor to make him roll his hips more. That'd be good for both of them.

Thing was, Steve didn't seem to be getting any more worked up than he already was. He kept moaning and writhing, but he gave the clear impression that he could keep doing so indefinitely. It wasn't exactly a hardship for Bucky, but he wasn't the one whose nipples were gonna be rubbed raw. 

"Hey, sweetheart," he said, sliding his hand in between their hips. "You wanna...?" He hooked his thumb in the waistband of Steve's scrub pants and pulled them down, then pulled down his own boxer briefs so they were round his thighs.

"Huh?" said Steve, then a surprised, breathy, "Ah!" at the feel of their bare flesh touching, smooth hot skin against smooth hot skin. "Uh huh," he added, then reached up to tangle his hand through Bucky's hair and pull his mouth back against his tit. "'S'nice," he said.

Bucky'd never known Steve to be so into having his tits played with. He kept sucking and licking while he slid his hand between their bodies, wrapping it around both their dicks as best he could. Steve's was drooling a steady stream of pre-come, more than Bucky had ever seen before. If it was an effect of the drug, it was a useful one, getting them both thoroughly slick so that they slid smoothly against each other and against Bucky's grip.

Maybe Bucky should have thought this through a bit better, but with his mouth full of Steve's tits and his cock sliding wetly against Steve's equally wet cock, it didn't take long before he was on the edge of coming himself.

"Steve," he said, "I'm close. I'm gonna... are you...?"

"Huh?" said Steve, and Bucky looked up to see his head lolled back, his throat exposed, beautiful taut perfect skin that Bucky wanted to – 

He pressed his forehead against Steve's chest and came, shuddering, into his own hand.

"Bucky," Steve said plaintively, "don't stop." 

Right, right. Steve was still rocking into Bucky's hand. Bucky shook his head to clear it and kept going, adjusting his grip just the way Steve liked it, and sped up his strokes, smearing his own come everywhere.

"Don't stop," Steve said again, redundantly. Bucky had no intention of stopping. 

"Good?" he said.

"Yeah... no..." Steve sounded confused. Bucky almost slowed down but Steve grabbed at his hair again and pulled him back onto his tit. "Yeah," Steve said, as Bucky sunk his teeth in just around the areola, and then a breathy, "Oh, oh. Yeah."

It must be the drug. Steve just kept going and going, whining and gasping and grabbing onto Bucky's head if he dared to stop sucking and biting, pushing up frenetically into Bucky's hand, squirming in the nest of cushions.

"C'mon," Bucky said indistinctly into Steve's left pectoral. 

"Bucky," Steve whined, "You gotta... I can't..." Suddenly he reached down and pushed Bucky's hand away from his dick and grabbed it himself, jerking himself furiously. "I can't... I can't... Oh God, Buck, I need to."

Bucky pulled back to look at him. He was tense all over, his skin flushed a deep red, veins standing out on his arm as it moved rapidly back and forth, his dick dark and painful looking. His other hand was clutching at the cushions, twisting the fabric. 

"Steve," Bucky said, and then, " _Steve._ " Steve managed to turn toward him, but his eyes were unfocused and he didn't stop what he was doing. "Shit. Stevie, sweetheart," Bucky said, and wrapped his flesh hand around Steve's wrist where he was wrecking the sofa cushions. His pulse was through the roof. 

Bucky looked over at his phone, lying on the side table, then back at him. "Steve, listen to me," he said. "We gotta get you to medical." 

Oh, God. This was going to be a nightmare, no two ways about it. First things first, he thought, and reached out with his metal hand to grab Steve's arm and stop him jerking off.

" _No!"_ Steve cried, and rolled off the sofa, flipping Bucky over and tumbling them both down onto the rug. Bucky's own legs were tangled up in his shorts and Steve had his knee across Bucky's pelvis, barely having missed landing on Bucky's balls. He was bent over Bucky, one hand still caught in Bucky's implacable grip, but he just used to other to grab his dick again and keep jerking it.

"Jesus Christ," Bucky said, flipping Steve again and pinning him far more effectively than Steve had managed. "Stop it."

"I _can't_ ," Steve said, his voice anguished but sounding more lucid than he had before. "Oh God." He tried to push up against Bucky, to rut against him. "Bucky, _please_."

There was no way he could get him to medical like this. Never mind the embarrassment, Steve wasn't in a fit state to even stand up and walk. The only thing for it would be to tranq him, and Bucky knew how nasty that was. There had to be another way.

"Tell me what you need," Bucky said.

"Need to... need to come." Steve was close to crying, every word desperate and strained.

"Yeah, I got that," Bucky said. "Okay, sweetheart, okay." He let go of Steve's hands and they flew back to Steve's dick, both of them, pulling and clutching like he didn't know what to do. Bucky gently pulled one of them aside, wrapped the other around his shaft. "You take care of that," he said, and lifted Steve's knee up. "I'm gonna help you."

"Help me," Steve repeated back to him. Bucky had never heard him say that before. Steve, always so tough, so determined to prove himself, never asked for help. He accepted it, sure, but he never asked. Never begged, like he was now, "Please, please," falling from his lips to shatter Bucky's composure.

"Stevie, sweetheart," he said, and swallowed around the rough lump at the back of his throat. "I'm gonna. I'm gonna make you feel better."

Bucky pushed two fingers into his mouth and got them spit-wet as well as he could. They'd done worse, and Steve wouldn't mind under the circumstances. He pushed them in and went straight for Steve's prostate. 

Steve gave a yelp that turned into a sob, then shifted, angling his hips so everything was suddenly easier. Bucky could feel that he was swollen, probably tender. He rubbed at the gland, watching Steve sob and writhe. "C'mon, sweetheart, c'mon," he said, and Steve gave a whimper as a trickle of come slid out of his dick, white and thick.

"God," Steve moaned, "more, please." Bucky kept pressing, massaging. Bucky was pretty sure Steve wasn't exactly coming – he'd be able to feel Steve's ass clench if he was – but he was panting and making low, throaty noises as more come dribbled out to pool on his stomach. Steve kept moving his hand rapidly on his cock, not letting up for a moment, but as Bucky milked more and more out of him, Steve's grip loosened a little and the muscles in his forearm stood out less like wire cables. Bucky felt a sudden rush of relief. This was working, it was helping, and Steve wasn't going to literally tear his own dick off in drug-addled desperation.

"How you doing?" he asked.

"Oh god, Buck, thank you," Steve said fervently, and Bucky barked a laugh. Trust Steve to keep his manners. 

"You're welcome," he said, and kept doing what he was doing. 

Slowly, slowly, Steve's pulse evened out and his skin took on a more normal shade, though his nipples still stood out like dark bruises against his pale chest, which was rising and falling evenly at last. Steve was still stroking himself, his dick still leaking come, but it no longer looked painful. The pool on his stomach was overflowing down his side, was going to get on the carpet, but Bucky couldn't bring himself to care or to stop.

"Bucky," Steve said, and his voice was dazed. "Feels so good."

Oh, they were back there again? "I know, buddy, I know," Bucky said.

Steve's grip loosened on his dick. He gave himself a couple more leisurely strokes, then he let go and dipped his fingers in the mess of come on his abs. "Oh," he said. "Look at that."

Bucky shook his head. "You done?" he asked, but Steve's dick was still spurting weakly, twitching a little from time to time, still hard.

Steve shook his head. "Feels good," he said, and let his hands fall loosely at his sides.

"Okay." 

Eight and a half minutes later, Steve was out like a light, Bucky's fingers still in his ass.

Bucky pulled them out, sat back on his heels, and reached for Steve's discarded shirt to mop up with. He pulled his own shorts up, then tugged Steve's scrub pants up over his still-stiff dick. He looked at Steve's scrub shirt in his hand, covered in come and worse, and went to find Steve a clean t-shirt, throwing an anxious look at him over his shoulder as he left the room.

Steve was still breathing deeply as Bucky dressed him like a rag doll. He picked him up and put him back on the sofa, then reached for his phone and called medical. "Steve passed out," he said flatly to the person on the other end of the line.

* * *

"They're keeping him in for observation," Bucky told Natasha over a beer later that night. "He needs fluids."

Natasha sprayed beer across the table.

"Don't," he said in his most repressive tone and frowned at her, arranging his eyebrows into his best Winter Soldier glare. Natasha knew him too well to fall for it. She sniggered, and reached for a napkin. 


End file.
